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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467345">A Roof and Four Walls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii'>kekinkawaii</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Friends to Lovers, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:41:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is tired of everyone assuming he and Cas are a couple, and he doesn’t want to be at this New Year’s party anyway and he’s sure Cas doesn’t, either, and—sorry, there’s a singles blindfolded kissing <em>what</em> at the countdown?!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>"evermore" &amp; "folklore" New Year's Eve Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Roof and Four Walls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/gifts">ensorcel</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmayflowers/gifts">bringmayflowers</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!</p><p>This was supposed to be 3k max, but after writing half a scene I got possessed by the writing gods or something because I just kept going and going. I had so much fun writing it though—more than I've had in a while—so a very reluctant thank you to 2020 for that.</p><p>Also, this fic was (supposed to be) an exchange fic based off of songs from Taylor Swift's new album, evermore. The two friends who did the exchange with me kindly picked the two hardest songs to write a fluffy fic to, so naturally I took the titles and completely ignored all the lyrics. Enjoy :D</p><p>Here's to 2021!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>i. no body no crime</strong>
</p><p>“We could pretend to get laryngitis again,” Castiel suggested.</p><p>From the other side of the bathroom, Dean ran a hand through his hair to flick out some of the water so that it was just damp and not dripping. “We tried that last year. Remember?”</p><p>“Yes,” Castiel said begrudgingly.</p><p>“Good,” Dean chirped. “Then you remember when Anna called us out on our bullshit.” He swung the door open to reveal Castiel, already halfway dressed in a silky-blue button up and slacks, fussing over his tie. He was way ahead of Dean, who was only in a towel, all his apparel still spread-eagled on the bed.</p><p>“I remember that, too,” Castiel admitted. The corner of his tongue peeked out when he was concentrating, like he was right now with that black-and-gold striped tie. Dean leaned against the doorframe, grinning as he watched Castiel struggle. </p><p>Finally, after another round that ended with the back end just a scant inch too long, peeking out from the bottom of the tie, Castiel let his hands drop and looked at Dean imploringly. “Dean—could you, um.”</p><p>Dean’s grin widened. “You could’ve asked earlier,” he said lightly, stepping into their personal space (which wasn’t really personal space, now, not when it came to the two of them. After living together for so many years, you kind of got used to living in each other’s pockets. Subsequently, you also got used to never needing to tie your own tie.)</p><p>“I was hoping I could get it this time,” Castiel mumbled.</p><p>“No such luck,” Dean said. He grabbed the ends of Castiel’s tie, looping them around his neck like he’d done a dozen times, a hundred, deftly knotting it with muscle memory more than anything. “Maybe it can be your New Year’s resolution,” he joked.</p><p>Castiel hummed. “I think I have more pressing matters to dedicate my time to than knowing how to tie a tie.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Dean raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Of course,” was Castiel’s response. “After all, I’ve always got you to do it for me.”</p><p>Dean laughed, and patted Castiel’s shoulders, stepping back. “That you do, Cas.” Tie wrangled into submission, he left Castiel to his own devices and meandered over to the bed, picking up his own clothes and slipping them on.</p><p>As he was buttoning up his shirt, he heard Castiel draw in a breath, then say, “What if—”</p><p>“Nuh-uh,” Dean said. “No more excuses. We’re going to this party and we’re going to make awkward chit-chat with your employees and then we’re going to go home. That’s it. Easy-peasy.”</p><p>“Not if Carla gets into the booze stash again,” Castiel muttered, and Dean snorted.</p><p>“Are you kidding? That was the best part of the whole party!”</p><p>“For you,” Castiel groused. “She poured champagne all over my head.”</p><p>Dean snapped his fingers. “Exactly!” </p><p>“It took <em>ages</em> to wash out.”</p><p>“I swear, our water bill was higher that month,” Dean agreed, picking up the final accessory—his own tie—from the bed. “But it was worth it. Remember how Eddie had to pry her off from the pillar because she climbed it and refused to come down?”</p><p>“And then she sobered up and was too <em> scared </em>to come down.”</p><p>“Zach was one second away from calling the fire department.”</p><p>“Like a cat stuck on a tree,” Castiel mused. “Her hair <em> was </em>exceptionally whiskery that day.”</p><p>Laughing, Dean went over to the washroom, where Castiel was now standing in front of the mirror, trying to fix his hair. He passed Castiel the tie in his hands, and stood quietly as it was looped around Dean’s neck. Not that Dean couldn’t tie a tie by himself, obviously, and not that Castiel couldn’t, either, if he were forced to, but he couldn’t without a couple of tries at least, and Castiel was right there, so why would he? </p><p>Dean stood until Castiel tapped Dean’s shoulder to indicate that he was done, and then in one swift motion reached up and ruffled Castiel’s hair until it was sticking up all over the place.</p><p>Castiel yelped, ducking away. “Dean!”</p><p>“Your hair is fine,” Dean said. “Seriously. It looks hot when it’s all messed up like that.”</p><p>Castiel straightened and squinted at Dean. “Really,” he deadpanned.</p><p><em> “Yes. </em>I may be straight, but I’m not blind. You look good. Stop worrying.”</p><p>“Fine,” Castiel huffed.</p><p>“Good,” Dean said. “Now get out of the way so I can make myself all pretty for your boss to ogle at.”</p><p>“Dean,” Castiel said, sounding distraught.</p><p>“Kidding,” Dean said. “You know I’m all yours, sweetheart.” He tossed a wink at Castiel from their reflection in their mirror. </p><p>Castiel rolled his eyes. “I may be gay,” he intoned, “but I’m not desperate.”</p><p><em> “Ohhh.” </em>Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “Am I not pretty enough for you, baby?”</p><p>“Hardly,” Castiel said, and with that undecipherable response, he left the room. “I’m going to text Anna and tell her we’re on the way,” he said.</p><p>“We’re not even fully dressed,” Dean called out, trying to make his hair fall in the right direction. Damn Cas for his effortless sex-hair. “Tell her we ran into construction and the roads are icy.”</p><p>“Done.” Castiel reappeared in the mirror, this time with both their blazers in hand. “And I doubt there <em> isn’t </em>construction and the roads aren’t icy. We’re going to be late.” The frown on his face showed how displeased he was at the notion. Leave it to Castiel to hate being late, even for a party he hated.</p><p>“Not when it’s me driving my baby,” Dean said, taking his own matching blazer from Castiel’s grasp and slipping it on, the tailored suit hugging his shoulders like a warm welcome. “How many times have I made it on time with the odds stacked against us, huh?”</p><p>“You make a good point,” Castiel said. “Maybe today will be the day your streak ends.”</p><p>“On the last day of the year? Never.” Dean stepped closer to Castiel, fixing his collar and smoothing it over his blazer for him. “C’mon, then. Don’t wanna be late for the <em>extremely </em>exciting opening speech.”</p><p>He grinned at the sudden dread that filled Castiel’s eyes.</p><p>“Of course not,” Castiel said faintly.</p><p>“Let’s get goin’, then.” Dean snatched his keys from the counter and headed towards the apartment door.</p><p> </p><p>The extremely exciting opening speech was, as Dean had predicted and Castiel had dreaded, so boring Dean wanted to gouge his eyes out with the dessert spoon laid out on the fancy glitter tablecloths. </p><p>He met Castiel’s eyes from where he was sitting next to him, and tried to telepathically indicate his growing death wish through a hard stare. Castiel stared back, head slightly canted, his own gaze filled with amusement. Seriously, Dean thought he’d rather be back at the entrance door, where they’d immediately been crowded by Becky and Beth, who’d fussed indiscriminately over their coats and cooed over their matching ties and Dean was genuinely terrified that Becky was about to kiss the two of them smack dab on the lips before he’d managed to snatch Castiel up and drag them away to the main room, where the party was taking place.</p><p>Castiel cleared his throat and Dean snapped back to the present to realize that he’d been staring. He looked around to make sure that no one was looking their way—thankfully, they all seemed to be enthralled with whatever boring-ass statistics that were currently being projected onto the big screen—and then picked up the dessert spoon and pretended to gag himself with it.</p><p>Castiel’s lips thinned in the way they did when he was trying not to laugh. He picked up one of his own utensils—a salad fork—and pretended to stick it in his eye.</p><p>Dean tried to hide his laughter but it burst out in an indiscreet snort. A few heads turned. Dean sipped at his water and pretended not to notice until they retreated, and then glared at Castiel, who peered innocently back.</p><p><em> Asshole, </em>Dean mouthed.</p><p><em> You started it, </em>Castiel mouthed back.</p><p>Dean crossed his arms and leaned back in his stuffy, oversized dining chair and stared at nothing in particular until the speech was finally, <em> finally </em>over.</p><p>Dinner—a very, very late dinner, considering it was nearly eleven, but they needed to fit in the countdown somehow—was to start in fifteen minutes or so, and the time in between was left for, as Anna, the boss’s assistant, had so nicely put it, ‘mingling’. Mingling. Dean would rather chew on the table leg.</p><p>Becky and Beth clearly didn’t think so, seeing as they were already halfway across the room by the time the speech had ended, making a beeline towards all the guests in their sight. On the other side of the room with all the balloons and ribbons was Garth, who had brought his two kids and was currently being reluctantly handcuffed with crepe paper. There was a group of the IT people huddling near the corner, playing cards, and Dean spotted Charlie, who looked gorgeous in her red dress that matched her flaming hair, pumping her fist and hollering over a win. And over by the side was Meg, who was slowly heading over towards their direction. </p><p>Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm in warning. “We should go,” he said, as casually as he could.</p><p>Castiel followed Dean’s gaze towards Meg, who was now smiling like a shark sniffing the first drop of blood. “Yes,” he said, and stood up, knees bumping the bottom of the table with a clatter of cutlery.</p><p>But they were too late.</p><p>“Castiel,” Meg purred, advancing with her kitten heels clicking on the floor. “Lovely to see you here. And Dean Winchester, too.”</p><p>Dean plastered on a smile. “Hey, Meg,” he said.</p><p>“Hello,” Castiel said.</p><p>“Matching outfits, I see,” Meg said, eyes raking down the two of them. “That’s just adorable. So, is this year the year you two finally—”</p><p>“No,” Dean interrupted.</p><p>Meg’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t even let me finish talking.”</p><p>“I don’t need to,” Dean said, “because you ask the same goddamn thing every year, every party, and every time, we’re going to say the same thing: no, we’re not dating. And I’m straight. So please stop asking.”</p><p>Meg’s eyebrows had been steadily climbing for the duration of Dean’s spiel. “You sure?”</p><p>“Yes,” Dean stressed, his grip on Castiel’s arm growing stronger. “Don’t get me wrong, Cas is amazing and awesome and I’m sure whoever gets to be with him will be a <em> very </em> lucky guy, but that guy is not me. We’re best friends, and I’ve known Cas since freshman year, and yes, we live together and we’re close, but that’s because we’re <em> best friends. </em>Nothing more.”</p><p>Meg pursed her lips, her eyes flitting to Castiel. Dean followed, and noticed that Castiel was eerily silent. “Hey, you okay?” he said, suddenly realizing how hard he’d been holding Castiel’s arm and quickly letting go. “Cas?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Castiel said, shaking himself out of it. “Sorry. Yes, Meg, Dean and I are only friends.”</p><p><em> “Best </em>friends,” Dean added, grinning a little now that he was focusing on Cas and not Meg. “Don’t sell me short.” </p><p>“Best friends,” Castiel allocated, rolling his eyes, and Dean grinned harder, because it was always so easy to rile Castiel up and the way he got all huffy and eye-rolly and arm-crossy was never going to get old to him. </p><p>“Alright,” Meg settled, finally retreating. “But cute matching suits, still.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Castiel said, and Dean echoed the sentiment, a little warmer this time. The conversation drifted into safer topics—things like Castiel’s job, his slowly-rising chance at getting the promotion all the employees were gagging for, and Dean’s job at the mechanics, and how Sam was still trudging through law school and up to his ears in studying. Castiel mentioned that Dean had been working extra holiday hours because they paid double the normal wage for money to put towards Sam’s funding, and Dean blushed in the way he always did when Castiel looked at him like that, all doe-eyed and smiling like he was saving the goddamn world instead of just helping out his little brother. By the time dinner rolled around, the tension was long gone, and they exchanged a few more casual words with the others at the table before digging in—Dean with his steak and Castiel with his salmon. Dean stole a few snatches of Castiel’s dish and Castiel side-eyed him before sighing and nudging his plate closer. In turn, Dean cut a corner off of his own steak—the caramelized, crunchy corner, the best part—and dropped it onto Castiel’s plate.</p><p>For a publishing company, they sure knew how to cook. Everyone polished off all their dishes in the span of half an hour, and all the guests sat back with their food babies and sipped their champagne (except for Dean, who had deigned to be designated driver tonight) and chatted aimlessly with the people around them. Dean striked up an argument with Ash, sitting across from him, about the newest Bond movie that Dean had dragged Castiel heels-in-dirt to see.</p><p>“I just don’t understand the entertainment value,” Castiel groused. “It’s all just gadgets and jumping out of windows and explosions.”</p><p><em> “Exactly,”</em> Dean and Ash both said, and Dean was starting to like this guy.</p><p>“Cas here prefers the oldies,” Dean said, and Castiel scrunched up his nose like an irritated porcupine.</p><p>“They’re called classics,” he said. “And I also particularly enjoyed Inception, which was released in 2010. Hardly old.”</p><p>“I remember catching that at the theatres,” Dean said. “That was that long ago? Damn, I’m old.”</p><p>“Dean, you’re twenty-eight,” Castiel ribbed, and Dean shot back that Castiel was nearing thirty, and that was even older—soon, Dean would be carrying Castiel up the stairs and helping him get dressed in the mornings—and Castiel sputtered and said that, if anything, <em> Dean </em>would be the one being carried with the way he worked bent over in a greasy dirty garage all day.</p><p>“Oh, please,” Dean said, “you and that blue-collar kink of yours, you <em> like </em>it.” And Castiel had turned so red Dean was worried he’d burst a vein laughing. He laughed even harder when Castiel picked up the glass of champagne and chugged it like it was water.</p><p>After downing half of it, Castiel put it down and turned back to Ash, who was grinning like a cat with a canary.</p><p>“See what I have to put up with?” Castiel said, voice slightly hoarse now, either from all the arguing or all the drinking. “I don’t know why I haven’t just moved out.”</p><p>“You would never,” Dean scoffed, waving a hand.</p><p>“Don’t push it,” Castiel said. “If I see one more dirty sock on the kitchen counter, Dean, I swear—”</p><p>“Oh, like you’re one to talk, with all your hair on the shower wall! What the hell, are you rubbing your head against it or something?” </p><p>Castiel groaned, then cast an apologetic glance towards Ash. “Can we not talk about this now?”</p><p>“Fine. But this isn’t over.”</p><p>“Save it for when we get home,” Castiel settled. “Sorry, Ash. You were saying?”</p><p>“Oh, nothing,” Ash said. “Honestly, I forgot myself. It’s much more fun watching you two, anyway.”</p><p>“Hear that, Cas?” Dean elbowed him. “I’m fun.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t think that if he had to put up with you and your awful singing all day,” Castiel muttered, and interrupted Dean’s protest by saying, “This your first year working with us, isn’t it, Ash?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ash said. “Joined this August. I’m in marketing. And you?”</p><p>“Accounting,” Castiel said.</p><p>“Cool. Dean, you’re a mechanic, right?”</p><p>“Bobby’s,” Dean confirmed. “Right across town.”</p><p>“I’ve been there, I think,” Ash said. “Nice place.” He picked up his fork, and gestured it between the two of them. “Dean is your plus one, then?”</p><p>“Dean’s always my plus one,” Castiel admitted, and Dean grinned, put an arm around Castiel and ruffled up his hair again just to see him scowl.</p><p>“I see,” Ash said. “And how long have you been together?”</p><p>“What?” Dean said.</p><p>“What?” Castiel said, and then, “Oh. No, sorry, we’re not—”</p><p>“We’re not together,” Dean finished.</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Castiel said, with such a firm tone of voice that Dean shot him a strange look. Well, jeez, if he was so hung up on it… </p><p>Ash looked like he’d just been tripped. “Oh. Okay. Shit, sorry for assuming, then. I just, well—with the living together and the bickering and the—” He seemed to notice the growing tension in the air and cut things short. “Nevermind.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Castiel said, and the way he said it told Dean that it was absolutely not fine. Dean narrowed his eyes at Castiel and took in the tightness around his eyes and the grip he had on the stem of the champagne glass, hard enough to crack. He was <em> pissed, </em> Dean realized, and it struck an odd chord inside of him to see Castiel so worked up. Come to think of it, he’d reacted strangely to Meg’s implications, too. Why did it bother Cas so much? And more importantly, why did that bother <em> Dean </em> so much?</p><p>“Yeah, no worries,” Dean said, flashing Ash an easy smile. “But, uh, just excuse us for one sec here.”</p><p>Before Castiel could protest, Dean had taken Castiel’s arm and was dragging him halfway across the room.</p><p>“Dean?” Castiel squirmed out of his hold. “What are you doing?”</p><p>They’d stopped at the entrance of the room, right outside the halls. Dean made sure that they were out of earshot by the other guests, who were all out of their seats by now and were happily chatting away—especially Becky and Beth, those two spread gossip like a global pandemic—and then lowered his voice to a mutter. “Why are you so upset over this?”</p><p>“What?” Castiel sounded breathless from the half-walk half-run all the way here. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Back inside the room, there was a loud <em> pop! </em>of a cracker going off. Garth’s daughter screeched happily. “I mean,” Dean said, leaning closer, “When people assume we’re a couple. Meg, and then Ash.”</p><p>Castiel had once again gone still, that same shuttered look on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Stop it,” Dean said hotly. “You got all pissy back there when Ash started talking about it.”</p><p>“Like you’re one to talk?” Castiel was suddenly louder, his voice beginning to echo before he caught himself, lowering it back down into a hiss. “Every time someone asks, the first thing you do is deny it. Vehemently.”</p><p>“Because we’re <em> not </em>together!”</p><p>“Oh, so when you deny it, it’s fine, but when I do it I’m suddenly <em> pissy?” </em></p><p>“Yes! No! It’s just—Jesus, Cas, I’m so sick and tired of people assuming we’re a couple when it’s just fucking <em> stupid.” </em></p><p>Something flashed across Castiel’s eyes, something like shock and surprise and hurt.</p><p>Dean froze, backtracked frantically. “Shit, Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Castiel said again, and just like the last time he said it, it wasn’t. “Go back to the party, Dean.”</p><p>“Cas,” Dean said.</p><p>“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Castiel said, and mustered up the faintest of smiles, just for Dean—something in Dean’s chest wrenched at that—before turning around and heading down the hall.</p><p>Dean stood there and watched Castiel walk away for a good five seconds, watched him yank the door open and walk out the building and close the door, again, behind him, and then because Dean was a fucking idiot who never listened, followed.</p><p>Outside, Castiel was leaning against the wall, his head tilted back so that he was facing the sky. His eyes were closed. </p><p>When he heard Dean approaching, he sighed, a plume of fog drifting up from his mouth. “Dean, I told you to go back to the party.”</p><p>“I didn’t listen,” Dean said.</p><p>Castiel opened his eyes and gazed up at the sky in something akin to surrender, and then he turned to Dean as he settled down next to him, so close their shoulders were touching. It was cold tonight, and lightly snowing. Some of the snowflakes had already nestled their way into Castiel’s hair.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “I didn’t mean to say whatever I said back there.”</p><p>Castiel raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“It’s not stupid,” Dean said. “The idea of us being together, I mean. You’re a catch, Cas, you know that, and I know that, and everyone should know that. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I wasn’t trying to say the opposite.”</p><p>“I know,” Castiel said quietly.</p><p>“And I’m sorry,” Dean said, “for putting it on you when it was clearly me who always defended it more.”</p><p>“Dean,” Castiel said. “It’s okay.”</p><p>“No, it’s not okay,” Dean said. “I’m always the one to deny it first, and probably a lot harsher than you did. I don’t know why it bugged me so much today. Just the way you said it back there—like it was something <em> awful. </em>It just really hurt, I guess. Even if it wasn’t true. Wasn’t real. Wasn’t—whatever.” He let his head fall back onto the wall behind him. “Fuck, I guess that’s how you feel every time, then, huh?”</p><p>Castiel’s silence was answer enough, and Dean covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Sorry. You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve stopped.”</p><p>“Stopped what?” Castiel said. “Stopped telling people we weren’t together?”</p><p>“Not like that,” Dean said with a puff of laughter. “Just. I dunno, I would’ve been nicer about it.”</p><p>“You could be,” Castiel agreed.</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay. I’ll—we’ll do that. Alright?”</p><p>“Alright, Dean.”</p><p>“Glad we got that sorted out.” Dean sighed and watched his breath mingle with Castiel’s, drifting up into the sky. “This is such a weird conversation, just so you know.”</p><p>“We’ve had weirder,” Castiel said.</p><p>Dean snorted. “Yeah, I guess so.” He chewed on his lip and looked over at Castiel—who was still worryingly quiet. “So we’re good now? Apologies accepted?”</p><p>“I think so,” Castiel said, after a moment. </p><p>“Good,” Dean said. “C’mere.” He snaked his arm around Castiel and pulled him closer by the waist until their sides were pressed together. “It’s cold and you’re warm.”</p><p>“You run hotter than me,” Castiel said mildly, but slowly relaxed in Dean’s hold.</p><p>“You bet I do, baby,” Dean said, and felt Castiel’s chuckle rumble through him. He smiled, grateful for the easy way they always seemed to fall back into place.</p><p>Back inside, Dean could just slightly make out the ruckus of the party. There was some sort of chanting going on, punctuated with the occasional shriek of laughter.</p><p>“Think they finally found the liquor stash?” he asked Castiel.</p><p>“Mm, I’ll bet on it,” Castiel said, sounding sleepy—he always had an early bedtime. Dean squeezed him tighter. “We should head back in time for the countdown.”</p><p>“Yeah, in a minute,” Dean said. “Any resolutions?”</p><p>Castiel paused for a moment, thinking. “Get a promotion,” he finally said.</p><p>“Pfft,” Dean said. “Boring, and you’re definitely gonna get it anyway. Something else. Something more fun.”</p><p>“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel said, and yawned. “Read more books? What constitutes fun?”</p><p>“Not books, that’s for sure,” Dean said. “How about a boyfriend?”</p><p>All of a sudden, Castiel didn’t sound so sleepy. “Why a boyfriend?”</p><p>“Well, for one, it would make everyone stop assuming we’re a couple,” Dean said lightly. “And, two, it won’t hurt to take that stick out of your ass for once. Replace it with something else.”</p><p>“Who says I’m the one catching?” Castiel said, and Dean almost choked.</p><p>“You mean,” Dean said. “You’re… um—” He suddenly felt overheated, despite the freezing air, and forcibly wrenched his mind away from an imagery that would probably scar him for life. Yeah, that was it. “Okay, I didn’t need to know that.”</p><p>“Priss,” Castiel said quietly, and Dean gawped at him.</p><p>“You’re the priss,” he said.</p><p>Castiel raised his eyebrow just a fraction. “If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Dean said eloquently. “You know I get it more than you.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean I can’t get it when I want it,” and how much champagne did Castiel drink, anyway, because Dean had never noticed this side of him before, how low his voice was or how easily he said that, with smooth confidence and the hint of a tease, and how much champagne did <em> Dean </em>drink, anyway? None, was the answer, because he was the fucking designated driver.</p><p>“Well,” Dean said (again, eloquently). “Okay. So, boyfriend, then.”</p><p>He felt Castiel let out a sigh and relax more into him, and that thrumming grating tension settled back into place. “Sure. What about you, Dean?”</p><p>“Me?” Dean thought for a moment. “Get new seats for Baby,” he said. “Help Sam get through his last year of college. Learn to cook more dishes. I dunno, Cas, new year’s resolutions are stupid, they’re just <em> things. </em>I should always be doing these things anyway, why would I need to put a date on it?”</p><p>“Exactly,” Castiel said, smiling.</p><p>They stood together for a while longer, until the cold got too much to bear even with their combined body heat and they ducked back inside, cutting it dangerously close to midnight.</p><p>Inside, the attendees were clearly drunker than they’d left them. Garth, thankfully sober, was trying to placate his two kids, who were on a sugar high from the build-your-own-cookie station at the side set up just for them. Becky was decked up in three pairs of sunglasses and a hula hoop from the photobooth corner and doing the shimmy to Taylor Swift. Charlie had the tallest pile of chips at her table and was still going strong.</p><p>“You’re back!” Anna greeted them when they entered. “Just in time for the countdown, too!”</p><p>“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dean said, and gave Anna a quick hug. </p><p>As they parted, Dean caught a spark of mischief in her eye. “What?” he said suspiciously.</p><p>“Oh, nothing,” Anna said.</p><p>“Anna,” Castiel said in that <em> I-know-all-your-secrets </em>way that he did sometimes. It was eerie, really.</p><p>Anna held it for a second before breaking. “Okay, so maybe something. You know how all the couples always make out at midnight and then all the singles like us are left standing awkwardly?”</p><p>“All too well,” Castiel said, and Dean agreed wholeheartedly. The abundance of alcohol the couples had consumed by that point in time didn’t help their modesty, either.</p><p>“Well,” Anna said, and, right in time, someone cleared their throat on the overhead speakers. They all turned to the stage to see Meg holding the microphone.</p><p>“Attention, everyone!” she said. “Attention, please!”</p><p>Very gradually, the clamor and commotion calmed. </p><p>“As you probably know,” Meg continued, “it is almost midnight, and we are close to welcoming a brand new year.” She paused graciously for the uproarious cheer. “You are all familiar with the tradition of kissing at midnight, I’m sure.” Another cheer, this time accompanied with a wolf whistle. “This year, we’re doing something different. Don’t worry, couples—we’re not splitting you apart. For those of us who are <em> single, </em> however, there’s going to be a <em> little </em> bit of a twist.”</p><p>A murmur rose in the crowd. Dean glanced at Anna, who still had that unerring smile.</p><p>“All the singles in this room—” Meg’s arm swept across the room— “will gather on this stage during the countdown. Half of you will be blindfolded, and half of you will not. We will draw straws to determine this. At midnight, it is up to those who are not blindfolded to decide who to kiss—or to kiss at all.” Her salacious grin showed exactly how much impact she was making on the crowd, who had by now broken into a mutter. “As of right now, we have five minutes until midnight, so let’s get going. Singles! All singles, come on up!”</p><p>Dean stared, awestruck, as people began to rise from their seats, making their way towards the stage, giggling and eyeing each other. Maybe they were even more drunk than he’d initially thought.</p><p>“Oh, no,” Castiel said.</p><p>“They’re not serious, are they?” Dean hissed.</p><p>“I wish,” Castiel said, watching as they formed a line and began to draw slips from a paper. “I’ve heard about this from Anna—it had been an occasional tradition from a few years ago, before I joined. I thought they’d stopped.”</p><p>“Obviously not,” Dean muttered. A few of the people on stage were picking up the stray pieces of fabric in the corner of the stage and tying them around their heads. He’d thought those had been <em> decorations.  </em></p><p>“We decided to bring it back,” Anna chirped. Dean swivelled his head over to her—he’d forgotten she was there. “Well? Go on, then. You two are single, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Oh—” Dean stammered. “I, uh.” </p><p>“We are,” Castiel said, and began to walk towards the stage. Dean gawped after him, then hurried to catch up.</p><p>“What are you doing?” He fell into place next to him. “You’re not seriously thinking of doing this, right?”</p><p>“Why not?” Castiel glanced at Dean. “It’s just a kiss, Dean.”</p><p>“A <em> kiss,” </em> Dean repeated.</p><p>“Priss,” Castiel said, arching an eyebrow, and that was it. Dean marched ahead of Castiel and shoved his hand into the bag and pulled out a slip of paper that read, <em> Blindfold. </em>Shit.</p><p>He turned around right in time to see Castiel unfold his own. “No blindfold,” he read out loud.</p><p>“That’s not fair,” Dean said.</p><p>“On the contrary, Dean,” Meg said, suddenly appearing next to him with a bright red ribbon, “it is entirely random. You did pick the paper yourself, after all. Now, up and at ‘em.” She handed Dean the fabric with a saccharine smile.</p><p>Dean glared at her, and then looked to Castiel helplessly.</p><p>“You did pick it yourself,” Castiel said. </p><p>“Dammit,” Dean muttered, and stomped his way to the stage. Castiel came over to stand next to him, his own hands free.</p><p>“Do you need help?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“What?” Dean said flatly. “Do I need help blindfolding myself so a random stranger can kiss me on New Year’s Eve?”</p><p>Castiel watched Dean for a moment, something faltering his eyes. “Dean,” he said, suddenly quiet, “you know, if you are truly uncomfortable, you don’t have to do this. I’m sure Meg would—”</p><p>Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, and held the fabric out to Castiel. “Nevermind, Cas. C’mon and Fifty Shades me already.”</p><p>“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel murmured, but he moved behind Dean and slipped the fabric over his eyes. His fingers moved deftly, occasionally flicking up Dean’s hair at the back of his head. Jesus, of course it just <em> had </em> to be silk.</p><p>“One minute!” Meg’s voice cooed from overhead, and the chatter ratched up another notch.</p><p>“You nervous?” Dean said to nothing in particular.</p><p>“Slightly.” Castiel had moved back to his left, now. </p><p>“Why? You gonna kiss anyone?”</p><p>“Maybe.” Castiel was moving away, now, his voice getting fainter.</p><p>“Really? Anyone I know?” Dean was surprised—he knew Castiel wasn’t a total monk, but he never was one for one-night stands (not like Dean) and he never was the kind to develop a workplace crush, either. </p><p>Castiel didn’t respond. He must’ve been too far away to hear him. Dean hummed to himself and rocked back and forth on his heels, suddenly self-conscious of the way he was standing now that his vision was gone. He wondered if anyone would kiss him, and then thought with horror that it might be Becky. </p><p>He was debating the merits of tearing the blindfold off of himself and leaping off the stage when the microphone squealed, and the countdown began.</p><p>“TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”</p><p>Dean heard shuffling all around him. Gentle, tentative footsteps.</p><p>“SEVEN! SIX!”</p><p>Faster, now, growing in confidence. He heard a nervous giggle, a low, muttered word. He licked his lips.</p><p>“FIVE! FOUR!”</p><p>Dean’s face tingled and he was suddenly, inexplicably, impossibly aware, he just <em> knew, </em>that someone was standing in front of him. Mere inches away and hovering.</p><p>“THREE! TWO!”</p><p>They weren’t moving forward. Weren’t making a move. Dean waited, waited, for the inevitable press of lips—nearly <em> anticipating, </em>because he always liked a little excitement in his life, and an anonymous kiss at midnight, despite his protests earlier, was right up his alley—but there was nothing. </p><p>“ONE!”</p><p>Fuck, Dean thought, and lurched forwards, hands coming up to grasp the stranger’s face as their lips collided.</p><p>
  <em>“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”</em>
</p><p>He tasted champagne and salmon and steak and felt the slightest hint of stubble and heard a low, low gasp and thought <em> Oh. </em></p><p>He kissed him and he kissed him back and all he could hear, now, was the cheers erupting from all around them and the pounding of his heart in his eyes and he tilted his head into the kiss, deepening it, and sank his fingers into dark, messy hair. </p><p>And then the other was pushing him back, breaking them apart, and Dean stumbled and licked his lips and it was so very familiar. He shoved his fingers underneath the blindfold and tore it off his face and stumbled again at the floodlight of brightness.</p><p>Scanned the crowd and saw couples still kissing, some still blindfolded, a burst of confetti still fluttering through the air. His lips, still tingling, but there was nothing but empty space in front of him, no body no crime and he was gone, gone, gone.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>ii. long story short</strong>
</p><p>He found Castiel outside again. Leaning against the wall again. Face craned towards the heavens, again.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth, wasn’t sure what he wanted to say so he closed it again. Repeated that. Stepped closer.</p><p>“I want to go home,” Castiel said.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth and said, <em> You kissed me. You weren’t blindfolded and I was blindfolded and you chose me to kiss, you said there was someone you wanted to kiss and it was me, and you kissed me, you kissed me. </em></p><p>And he said, “Okay,” and dug the keys out of his pocket and they bode the party an Irish farewell.</p><p>Castiel was silent the whole drive home. Dean flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, his face too hot and his blazer too itchy and every single molecule in his body vibrating like someone had ripped the realm of reality right from beneath his feet.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Dean finally said, once they were pulling into their street.</p><p>“Are you?” Castiel said.</p><p>“I think so,” Dean said, and turned that over for a few seconds while he parked their car, and realized, with a vague feeling that this was something of vast importance, that he really, really was.</p><p>Dean unlocked the door to their apartment and Castiel stumbled in, more drunk than Dean had thought he was, and Dean reached out to steady him automatically. He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and said, “Let’s get you to bed.”</p><p>“Dean—” Castiel said, akin to desperation. He turned and looked up at him, eyes hazy and bright. “Dean, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be,” Dean said easily, slipping Castiel’s blazer off his shoulders and draping it onto a random chair, unknotting his tie with swift motions.</p><p>Castiel’s face twisted up. “I <em> am,” </em>he said. “I fucked it up.”</p><p>Dean shot a glance at Castiel, who rarely swore unless it was a tumultuous occasion. “Nah,” he said, taking Castiel’s shoulders and steering him towards his bedroom. “You didn’t.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to,” Castiel said, and Dean slowed down. “I wanted—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Dean paused for long enough that Castiel began to sway, and then he flipped up the covers on Castiel’s bed and pushed him down into it.</p><p>“It’s okay, Cas,” he said, very quietly, now, because Castiel had already closed his eyes. “We’ll deal with it in the morning. Just sleep now.”</p><p>“Mmf,” Castiel said. “Night, Dean.”</p><p>“Night, Cas,” Dean said, and gently brushed Castiel’s hair from his forehead. He watched as he turned around, burying his face into the pillows, and then he left the room, shutting off the lights before clicking the door shut behind him.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Dean woke up with the taste of Cas still on his lips. He brushed his teeth, showered, and wandered into the kitchen to make some pancakes, because it was Friday morning and Friday morning meant pancakes.</p><p>Castiel stumbled into the kitchen right in time for the coffee to be finished. He plopped himself down on a chair in front of the kitchen counter and shoved his head in between his arms, pillowed on the marble counter.</p><p>“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said, and handed Castiel a mug and an aspirin.</p><p>Castiel downed both. “Thank you,” he said fuzzily. Dean smiled—Cas was the only person who’d wake up with a killer hangover and still remember his manners.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” he said. “Pancakes?”</p><p>“Mm, in a moment,” Castiel said, still sipping at his coffee.</p><p>Dean finished up his own plate, moved everything to the sink for later, and then carried both plates over to the counter. He sat down across from Castiel, and dug into his own breakfast.</p><p>Ten minutes later, Castiel rubbed at his eyes and patted down his hair uselessly—it looked like he’d been electrocuted. Or gone for a tussle through a haybale. Or both. Dean couldn’t help but laugh.</p><p>“You’re fine,” he said. “Sex hair, remember?”</p><p>Castiel rolled his eyes and then slumped down into a miserable heap on his chair again. He picked up his mug to find it empty, and reached across the counter to pick up Dean’s mug and take a swig.</p><p>“Hey,” Dean chastised, but he was smiling so hard it hurt and his chest was aching, but in a good way, and he was beginning to realize it, now, and wondered why it had taken him so long. He waited until Castiel finished that cup, too, and then picked up all of their mugs and plates and forks and knives and carried them over, dumping them into the sink.</p><p>He didn’t sit back down—instead making his way next to Castiel, who looked up warily.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Dean murmured.</p><p>“Like death,” Castiel said.</p><p>Dean snorted. “Lightweight. You weren’t even that drunk.”</p><p>“Drunk enough to kiss you,” Castiel said, and then realized what he said and paled so quickly Dean worried for his health.</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean said. “Um. About that, actually—”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Castiel said, nearly tumbling out of his chair in his haste, “I swear I was drunk, Dean, I didn’t know what I was doing, and I just—I wanted to, so badly, and you were blindfolded and I just—”</p><p>“Cas,” Dean said, but Castiel barrelled along.</p><p>“I know, I know you’re straight and not interested and you’ve made that clear, and I should’ve respected that—it won’t ever happen again,<em> I promise—”</em></p><p>“Cas—”</p><p>“I thought it would be my only chance and I know I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry—”</p><p>Dean made an annoyed sound, and then stepped closer and ducked down to swallow Castiel’s words with a kiss.</p><p>He broke off when it was clear that Castiel had got the message.</p><p>“Did you like that?” Dean demanded.</p><p>Castiel’s voice was very, very faint. “What?”</p><p>Dean leaned in and kissed him again, deliberately firm. “Do you like me kissing you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Castiel whispered.</p><p>“Good,” Dean whispered back, and he was taking Castiel’s hands in both of his and tugging him so that he was standing, and then he clasped a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and drew him in and kissed him, and Castiel kissed him back.</p><p> </p><p>They still went to every single New Year’s party, all the way through Castiel’s promotion (the congratulations sex was <em> fantastic) </em> and every time, without fail, Meg and Becky and Ash and nearly everyone in the office cornered them and rubbed it all up in their faces about how they were right and <em> I told you so </em> and yada yada yada until Dean kissed Castiel just to shut them up. They always somehow wound up playing that same damned blindfold game, but Dean watched from the tables, now, holding hands with Castiel as the clock wound down.</p><p>Dean still never understood what the fuss was with their ‘story’ or whatever it was. Whenever they told it to a new employee or retold it to an old, they’d coo and aww and fuss over it when it really wasn’t a big deal, honestly.</p><p>“You kissed me, and the next morning, I kissed you back,” Dean summarized to Castiel one night on the couch when the topic was brought up once again. “That’s it, really.”</p><p>“Is it really?” Castiel said. “What about when I first met you at frosh week?”</p><p>“What does that have to do with anything?” Dean frowned. “Yeah, I remember. You were being cornered by this creepy dude, so I pretended you were my boyfriend and got you out of there.”</p><p>“And then we snuck onto the roof.”</p><p>“And Benny got so drunk he jumped into the lake.”</p><p>“And we fell asleep on the roof and I got the worst cold of my life,”</p><p>“and you told me I was <em> obliged </em>to be your personal Tylenol assistant until you got better,”</p><p>“and then I helped you pass that Chemistry midterm. And what about when I first got my job and you turned down that other garage to move here with me?”</p><p>“It was an easy decision, Cas, there were tons of mechanics, and I wasn’t keen on staying anyway.”</p><p>“But still, we went apartment hunting together.”</p><p>“Shit, and there was that one with the fucking <em> rats!” </em></p><p>“I thought you were going to burst into tears on the spot.”</p><p>“Shut up. You cried on your first week at the job.”</p><p>“It was an extremely stressful time!”</p><p>“And I went out and bought you that stupid gourmet ice cream that costs more than my life insurance.”</p><p>“And you ate more of it than I did,” Castiel shot back.</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean relented. “And then shit happened, and even more shit happened, and then that one party came along, you kissed me, the next morning I kissed you back. The End.” He pulled Castiel in closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his messy hair.</p><p>Castiel made a happy noise and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. <em> “I </em>think it’s a good story,” he said.</p><p>Dean paused, and then he smiled, and ducked down to kiss Castiel on the mouth this time, because maybe it was.</p><p> </p><p>Long story short, Castiel kissed Dean at a New Year’s party, and the next morning Dean kissed him back.</p><p>Long story short, Dean looks at Cas in the morning sometimes in the fleeting moments before he wakes up to go to work, and thinks that he’s the goddamn luckiest guy alive.</p><p>Long story short, Dean proposes to Cas on the top of a mountain on a hike in front of a gorgeous view, and he doesn’t even get to finish asking before Cas is practically on top of him, kissing him breathless.</p><p>Long story short, Dean still yells at Cas for leaving hairs all over the sink basin and shower wall and Cas still yells at Dean for leaving his dirty socks on the counter, and they still yell at each other until they’re too tired to yell anymore, and they get into bed, still grumpy, still tired, and Dean will usually break first, because Cas has the stubbornness of a fully-grown ass and Dean can’t stand it when Cas is mad at him. So he’ll wait for a while, until he thinks Cas is almost asleep, and then he’ll whisper, <em> Cas, </em> and <em> I’m sorry </em> and <em> I love you </em>and Cas will grumble and roll over and let Dean pull him into his arms. And the next morning Dean will make pancakes and Cas will walk into the kitchen with full-blown sex hair and Dean will kiss maple syrup off of his husband’s nose.</p><p>Long story short, Cas looks at Dean sometimes when he’s in the middle of telling some stupid, dumb joke during dinner, trying to make Cas laugh and snort champagne up his nose again, and thinks that he’s the goddamn luckiest guy alive.</p><p>Long story short, Cas and Dean fall in love.</p><p>The End.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The covers of the book are like a roof and four walls. —John Berger, <em> Keeping a Rendezvous </em></p>
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